


you love when i fall apart

by vincerets



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: 1x12, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 20:51:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18454394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vincerets/pseuds/vincerets
Summary: in which alex experiences something with michael that he’s never experienced before





	you love when i fall apart

“I can’t breathe.”

It isn’t necessarily the words that make Alex whip around with such intensity it almost gives him whiplash, but rather the laboured breaths that accompany the words. Michael sounds like he’s choking and it’s a sensation Alex is uncomfortably familiar with.

He doesn’t flinch when the glass resting on the workbench in front of Michael shatters and explodes, the shards stopping a few inches from him and falling lifelessly to the ground. His eyes meet Michael’s and the sheer number of emotions that flit across his face in just a few seconds is more than enough to shatter his heart.

_Panic. Anger. Fear. Pain. Guilt._

Alex makes a mental note to talk to him about that last one when Michael doesn’t feel like his breath is being forced from his body. 

“Guerin-” Alex starts, taking a few slow steps towards him. He wants to reach out and touch him, to pull him against his chest and run his fingers through his curls until Michael’s world is centred and he remembers how to breathe again, but he doesn’t know how he would react to that and he doesn’t want to do anything that could exacerbate the situation. So, he keeps some distance between them, hoping his words will be enough to calm him. “Michael. Michael look at me.”

Michael’s eyes open and meet Alex’s for a moment and they’re wet with tears that he’s desperately trying to blink back but can’t quite contain. Then he’s looking away again and staring at one of the dozen screens in the room that Alex hadn’t noticed yet and-  _oh_.

The screen is dark and the video that’s playing is shaky but clear enough to make out. There’s a timestamp in the corner that dates it back to the late 1940′s. The room they’re in is cold and even though it’s bustling with half a dozen people, it still feels lifeless. The camera pans past a few men in white coats talking animatedly with their hands before coming to a stop on what is clearly a corpse on a surgical table, chest cut open. The tape ends and goes dark for a second, the words  _1947 Alien Dissection_  cracking on screen before the video loops again. It makes Alex’s stomach sink and he can hardly bear to imagine what it’s doing to Michael. 

“Kyle, shut that off!” Alex demands, his tone leaving no room for argument. He barely registers Kyle crossing the room and standing in front of the screen before he’s fumbling for a button he can’t quite seem to find. In the end, he watches him duck under the screen for a second until it goes blank and he resurfaces with the plug in his hand.

Michael seems to remember that the two of them aren’t alone in the room then and takes off running out the door, ignoring Alex calling his name behind him.

“Go-” Kyle says, pointing in the direction Michael had just run, “-he needs you. A lot more than he thinks he does. I’ll keep looking around and see what I can find in here.” 

Alex gives him a quick nod of thanks before darting out of the room and back down the hall that they had come down just minutes ago, calling out Michael’s name and pleading for him to slow down as he follows. It doesn’t take him long to catch up to him.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” Michael manages to choke out, his hand braced against the wall for support. 

“Michael.”

“We’re not supposed to be able to get sick! We’re  _aliens,_ we’ve never been sick a day in our lives and I just-.” He’s cut off by a few rapid inhales that he tries, and fails, to choke back which results in a wheezing sound that makes Alex wince. “I don’t understand what’s going on!”

“Michael.”

Michael reaches into his pocket with shaking hands and fishes out his phone, a frustrated curse wrenching itself from his lips when he notices the distinct lack of signal. “I have to call Max. He can heal me if something’s wrong and I’ll be fine, right? I just have to get to Max.”

_“Michael!”_

Michael’s head whips up at the tone of Alex’s voice, his breathing still coming hard but his babbling ceased. Alex notices the way his good hand is curled into a tight fist, nails digging into his palm like it can provide a distraction from the incessant beating of his heart. It takes him a moment, but once he’s sure Michael isn’t going to flee again, he trails the tips of his fingers down his arm and towards his hand, gently prying his fingers away from his palm.

“You’re having a panic attack.”

Michael’s eyebrows furrow in confusion for a moment and when it looks like he’s about to come up with a reply, Alex cuts him off again. “I used to have them a lot, I still get them sometimes but not as often.” 

“How do you stop it?” Michael asks, and the desperation in his voice shatters Alex’s heart for the second time that day. 

“I need you to focus on your breathing. You have to breathe in for four seconds, hold it for seven, and exhale for eight. It kicks in the parasympathetic nervous system.” When Michael stares at him blankly for a moment, he shrugs. “I used to use it in really bad situations when I couldn’t see an out.”

Michael exhales a humourless laugh and leans his weight against the wall, shoulders slumped forwards like he’s trying to hunch in on himself. “No offence, Alex, but I don’t think I could breathe for that long even if I wanted to.”

“Okay, then let’s try something else,” Alex concedes. He uses the hand still wrapped in Michael’s to raise them and lay the other mans flat against his heart, the steady beat of it thrumming under his hand.

At first, Michael looks confused and tries to pull away to distract himself once more, but Alex places his own hand over it and keeps it there, a steady presence to ground him.

“Can you try and match my breathing?” he asks, drawing in a series of deep, steadying breaths. It takes a minute or two for Michael to be able to even somewhat match his paces, but eventually he does. It takes even longer for his breathing to return to normal again but when it does, Alex can see the way the panic leaves his body, replaced with a bone deep exhaustion that has Michael leaning against him for support. 

Alex shrugs his backpack off and helps lower Michael to the ground when his legs give out, their hands still clasped together. “You need to drink something,” he tells him, moving to pull his hand away to grab some water from his bag, but Michael’s hold is firm and he lets out a weak protest, so he keeps it there and ends up reaching awkwardly over himself to grab a bottle and twist the cap open. 

“Thank you,” Michael says after he’s drained half the bottle, his hand still shaking but his heartbeat and breathing steady once more. 

“You don’t have to thank me, Guerin.” Alex wants to say more, but he’s cut off when Michael shakes his head and looks up at him, his eyes intense in that same way that makes his knees weak. 

“I do. Alex, I shattered a glass right in front of you back there, if you would have been any closer-.” Michael stops himself with a shake of his head, eyes cast downwards. 

“But I wasn’t.”

“But if you were-.”

“But I wasn’t, Michael,” Alex cut him off. When Michael refuses to meet his eyes, Alex reaches his free hand up and cups his cheek, tilting his head so that they were looking at each other. “And don’t think I didn’t notice. That glass exploded with such force that I should be picking shards of it out of my body right now, but you stopped it didn’t you?”

“I wouldn’t exactly put it that way. It was like... I don’t know, it was like I saw it flying towards you and I wanted to protect you and then it just stopped. I don’t remember stopping it,” Michael admits, his voice soft and tinged with guilt. 

“You know I can take care of myself, right?” Alex teases, nudging Michael’s shoulder playfully with his own, the corners of his lips quirked up into the beginnings of a smirk.

Michael rolls his eyes fondly and lets out a small chuckle, head rolling back against the wall. “Oh, I don’t doubt that you can take care of yourself. But when it comes to freaky alien mind control powers it can’t hurt to have a little bit of help now and then.” 

“Don’t do that.” 

“Do what?”

“Talk about yourself like you’re some kind of freak,” Alex tells him firmly, shaking his head. “Because you’re not. You’re... Guerin, you’re amazing. Your powers are amazing. Yeah, you might be an alien but the way you look out for the people you care about, the way you protect people so fiercely and with everything you have, that’s all you Michael. I remember what you told me about how you were okay with the suffering if it meant Isobel and Max had an easier time. You’re a good person, and I won’t let anybody talk about you like that. Not even you.”

Michael stares at him for a beat too long, his heart in his throat as he listens to Alex talk about him like that. It was high praise, and it was praise he knew that he didn’t deserve. “Are you going soft on me, Manes?”

“You’re also a massive asshole, so there’s that.” He was laughing, though, and there was no malice in his voice - and if the bark of laughter that erupted from Michael’s throat was anything to go by, then he knew that too. 

“Maybe I am. But you seem to like me well enough.” 

“I plead the fifth. None of us need your ego getting any bigger than it already is,” Alex teases, falling straight into the usual back-and-forth the two of them have when they aren’t either going at each other’s throats, or collapsing into bed together. 

Michael hums, shifting his body a little so that he’s slanted towards Alex. “My ego’s perfectly fine, thank you very much. And if I’m not mistaken, Manes, I’d say you were flirting with me.”

“Well it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve been wrong...” Alex trailed off, unconsciously letting himself lean into Michael’s space.

“You keep telling yourself that.” 

Michael was close enough that Alex could feel his breath ghosting against his lips as he spoke. He hadn’t even realised that they had been moving closer - it was like they were both magnets being pulled together by some force that neither of them could control and didn’t want to fight. Alex tilted his head to the side and let himself lean in, lips parted slightly and then-.

“Guys! You should come and see this!” Kyle’s voice echoed down the hall as he walked out, stopping at the sight of the two of them together. “Am I interrupting something?” 

Alex let out a small, frustrated noise at the interruption and leaned away from Michael, only now realising that they’d been holding hands the entire time and he had no intention of letting go just yet. He called out a quick “no!” at the exact same time Michael replied with a disgruntled “yes!”. 

“We’re coming, Kyle,” Alex called out as he got to his feet, pulling Michael to his and steadying him when he stumbled a little. “Yeah, we need to get you back to the motel soon. You need to rest.” 

“Alex Manes,” Michael smirked, making Alex groan. He knew that tone. It was a tone that implied Michael was about to be utterly ridiculous, so he busied himself with pulling his backpack onto one of his shoulders, purposefully ignoring the glint in the man’s voice. “Are you inviting me back to a seedy motel?”

Alex just rolled his eyes and started to pull Michael back down the hall, their hands still clasped together. “Shut up, Guerin.”

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first thing I've written in literally five years, play nice kiddos.


End file.
